Snow Day
"Fuck," Mulder muttered under his breath. Why was it, he thought to himself, that he could so easily profile serial murders and yet couldn't figure out what made Krycek tick?
Crawling out from under Alex's quilt, he stripped the linens from the feather bed in an effort to distract himself from the need to follow his lover into the living room. "Give the man some space," he said to the empty room. He remade the bed and dropped the soiled sheets into the clothes hamper. Collecting his clothes from the floor, he went across the hall to his own room to shower, shave and dress before confronting the enigma that was Alexander Krycek or whatever it really said on his birth certificate.
Alex stood behind the closed storm door and watched the wind whip around the steadily falling snow.
"The plow isn't back yet?" Mulder asked instead of the questions that were really on his mind. The ones that made his heart ache. Like why Alex couldn't look him in the eye when they were together or why he fled the bed after they made love. A slow, easy smile lit his eyes and turned up the corners of his mouth. Could it really be that easy, he thought.
"No and it looks like there's six more inches than there was three hours ago. So if you want to fuck me again, there's nothing else to do."
Though stung by his lover's harsh tone, Mulder didn't rise to the bait. "I can think of a lot of things to do that don't involve fucking you," he said. "Come on," he said taking Alex's hand and tugging him away from the door, "I'll make you breakfast."
"It's two am," Alex protested.
"So, I don't think either one of us is going to get any sleep tonight," Mulder replied.
"Do you know how to cook?" Krycek asked suspiciously.
"I can cook five things well enough to actually feed them to people I care about."
"So what are you feeding me?"
Mulder leaned into Alex's space and kissed him on the cheek. "Lock up; for you I'm pulling out all the stops."
Alex wiped the powdered sugar off his lips and smiled at Mulder's expectant gaze. "That was very good. I haven't had homemade French Toast in years."
"My grandmother's recipe. She always said a bachelor should know how to cook at least a couple of things well enough to impress a girl. Somehow I don't think you're what she had in mind."
"You don't think your grandmother would like me?" Alex asked looking up at Mulder from beneath his black lashes.
"My grandmother would have adored you."
Alex's head popped up.
Smiling at his lover's dazed look, Mulder rested his hands on Alex's shoulders and kissed the top of his head. "Why don't you go see if there's a game on or something? I'll be in as soon as I clean up."
"You want some help? It's the least I can do, since you did the cooking," Alex offered.
"Why don't you find me a basketball game? I can get this."
Mulder walked out into the living room and found Alex sitting on the floor going through a duffle bag of supplies for what must have been the tenth time in the last several days. "Thought there wasn't anything to do," Mulder said.
"You can never be too prepared. And the satellite dish must be out. All I get is snow on every channel—Don't even say it," Alex added, cutting off whatever sarcastic remark was about to come out of Mulder's mouth.
"What's that for?" Mulder asked noticing a ball of heavy hemp string in one of the piles next to the bag.
"Never know when you might need string."
"Can I have some?"
Alex shrugged his shoulders and handed Mulder the ball.
"Thanks."
"What do you want it for?" Alex asked.
"It's a surprise."
"Should I be worried?"
"You never know," Mulder said cryptically.
Mulder woke to the sensation of a mattress sinking. He opened his eyes to find Alex sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to him.
"You okay?" Mulder asked.
"I want to know what this is supposed to mean. I fell asleep on the couch and woke up to this," he said, holding up his wrist so Mulder could see the macrame bracelet wrapped around it.
"What do you think it means?"
"Will you stop talking to me like you're my shrink and answer the damn question?" Alex asked, shifting so he was facing Mulder.
"It means whatever you want it to mean. I didn't give it to you to make you angry. I gave it to you so you'd know how I feel."
Mulder watched as Alex looked down at his wrist.
"I'll take it off for you if you don't want it," Mulder said sadly.
Alex hugged his wrist with his knees. "I want it."
"You know what I would do if I were you? I'd lose my clothes and get my ass in this bed."
"It's stopped snowing and the plow's been through," Alex said.
"I don't care. What's the point of saving the world if we can't enjoy a little bit of time in it?"
Alex dropped his jeans and tugged the sweater over his head. Leaving the garments pooled on the floor, he climbed under the quilt and curled around Mulder's body. "I want you, too," he whispered into his lover's ear.
I found a new remedy Stop waiting for the summertime Yeah And if you turn up the dream Stop waiting for the summertime
The End
Go to Ditched
Stalled in Fargo II
by Siberian Skys
Mulder lay on his back, eyes closed, and concentrated on keeping his breathing deep and even. He could hear Alex moving around the bedroom opening and closing drawers and struggling with his clothes as he dressed. After the rustling stopped, Mulder rose up on his elbow and watched as Krycek slipped quietly out of the bedroom wearing only a blue gray sweater and fraying blue jeans. Relief spread through Mulder's chest at the sight of bare feet and an empty left sleeve. He wouldn't put it past the man to walk to the Consortium lab, blizzard or no blizzard.
"Summertime In Wintertime"
Badly Drawn Boy
To defeat almost anything at all
Is it true you tell me
We're failing to see
That we were dreaming of a lifestyle
I can't believe that I fall for it everytime
The feelings ebb and flow like the tide
It's true what I would do if I were you
In wintertime, that can't be right
Don't subscribe to this jive
Like waiting for the summertime in winter
Yeah
To cure yourself free
From searching for a new afterlife
The purpose of life
You know there's still time
To tune into the right side
I assumed that we were lovers yesterday
The turning tides would love us to pray
You know what I would do if I were you
In wintertime, that can't be right
Don't subscribe to this jive
Like waiting for the summertime in winter
